


slow motion

by xmjcx



Series: smutty kristanna one-shots [2]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: F/M, Smut and Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23882761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xmjcx/pseuds/xmjcx
Summary: "That's how this works, right? I tell you what I need, and you make it happen?"
Relationships: Anna/Kristoff (Disney)
Series: smutty kristanna one-shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1762195
Comments: 15
Kudos: 108





	slow motion

It starts with a lightswitch. 

“I don’t know what happened,” Anna says with a pout. “It just - stopped working.”

Kristoff tests it out, just to be sure, and she rolls her eyes over-dramatically. 

“Believe me now?” she sasses, and he cocks a brow at her before he moves towards her front door, the keys to his truck jangling in his fist.

“Give me a minute,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”

.

.

.

Kristoff can’t say for certain when Anna Arendelle became _his_ problem.

He had known her for as long as he can remember, since her older sister had been one of his closest friends growing up; but they had never really spent any significant amount of time together, never really spoke apart from brief conversations and polite _hellos_ and _goodbyes_ , and Kristoff had been more than happy to be nothing more than an acquaintance to her for the rest of his life. 

But then there was the boating trip that Agnarr and Iduna never returned home from, and then there was Elsa packing up everything she owned and moving to the other side of the country for college only to never return home once she met someone out there; and somewhere over the past two years, Anna had become a more prominent part of his life. 

And now - well. 

He’s so smitten with her that it _hurts,_ and he doesn’t know when that happened, either.

.

.

.

Kristoff hates her house.

It’s a nightmare. It was always going to be hard work, and he had told her just as much before she bought it, had frowned as he inspected it and had made sure to point out all of the flaws to her. He knew that she wasn’t stupid, or blind, but he also knew how easy it was for realtors to suck people in; and the last thing that he wanted was for Anna to be taken advantage of.

Not that she’d listened to him, of course. She had just shrugged her shoulders and smiled that pretty smile of hers, and for every flaw and fault that he found with the house, she seemed to find a bright side - to the point where he thought that maybe she should consider a career-change. 

In the end, she insisted that she _just had a feeling_ about the place; and it wasn’t like he had any right to even try and stop her despite the fact that he definitely didn’t agree that she could fix it up with a good clean and a fresh lick of paint, so he had accepted defeat and had grinned along with her when she signed the contracts and received her keys.

And as much as he hates the house, he _really_ likes Anna, and the constant fuck-ups with her internet and her lightswitches and her appliances and her water pipe and her - well, _everything_ \- just serve as more reasons for him to spend time with her. 

Sometimes, Kristoff wonders what will happen when there’s nothing left for him to fix for her. They were growing closer before she bought it, but he still gets in his head about it all; and he doesn’t want to go back to there being weeks without seeing her, or days without speaking to her, and the thought alone is almost enough to tempt him into doing a half-assed job of something just so he knows that he’ll have a reason to return, so that there’ll always be something for him to fix for her again. 

He won’t do that, though - not to Anna. 

He’ll have to figure out a better plan. 

.

.

.

So. The lightswitch.

“Oh,” she says as she blinks at the bulb in his hand, “I didn’t even think of that.” 

Kristoff isn’t an electrician by any stretch of the imagination, but he’s pretty certain that her issue doesn’t lie with the actual switch. It takes him no time at all to change the bulb, and he can’t help but smirk when the living room is illuminated by bright light once more.

“You don’t have to look so pleased with yourself, you know,” she says to him, but her lips are curved upwards, too; and he chuckles at her before he shrugs his shoulders.

“Sorry, princess,” he responds, and he’s teasing, too -

But _shit,_ he didn’t mean to actually call her that. Not out loud, anyway; and his ears and the back of his neck burn red as she cocks a brow at him. 

He watches as she crosses her arms over her chest and juts out her hip ever so slightly, and a sly smirk spreads across her face as she narrows her eyes at him.

“ _Princess_?” she repeats, that smirk growing into a shit-eating grin, and Kristoff makes a point of rolling his eyes as he fishes the keys to his truck out of the back pocket of his jeans.

“Shut up,” he huffs, though there’s no malice in his tone, and Anna laughs happily as he moves quickly towards her front door. 

.

.

.

He tries not to overthink the whole _accidentally calling Anna ‘princess’_ thing, but he notes that she reaches out to him a little more regularly than before after it. They start to speak more and more - not just about her house, or how she’s doing, or whether or not the other has heard from Elsa - and as a result, Kristoff begins to wonder about things that he’s never given much thought to before.

Like whether or not he should open her messages right away, or whether he should text her back as soon as he opens them, or whether he should wait for at least three rings before he answers the phone.

He doesn’t want to look desperate, doesn’t want to seem as though he’s sitting around with nothing better to do than speak to her. And now she’s fucking with his head without realising at all, and Kristoff scolds himself for being so ridiculous. 

He’s her _friend._ That’s all. 

He shouldn’t be putting this much thought into any of this.

.

.

.

He’s just made it back from his morning walk with Sven when his phone starts to ring, and Kristoff doesn’t need to look at the caller ID to know who it is that’s calling. 

Shit always seems to go wrong at her house on his days off from the garage, or in the evenings, once he’s home; and it’s almost as if the damned place just _knows_ that he’s off work with nothing better to do than come running at her beck and call like the love-sick puppy he is.

He’s an idiot, and one of these days, he’s going to have to tell her _no._ Anna doesn’t feel the same way about him, and if she knew that his feelings towards her were the reason why he spent so much time helping her with things around her fucked-up house, then it’s safe to say that she’d be creeped out, at the very least.

Still. He’ll say _yes_ today. 

(It’ll be the last time, though.) 

“Hey,” he says, “what’s -”

“Kristoff!” she interrupts. “Oh, _thank god -_ are you busy?”

He tries not to smile. “Depends,” he says.

“On what?” 

“On what’s fucked up this time.”

.

.

.

That time is certainly _not_ the last time that Kristoff says yes to Anna.

He tells himself that he’ll definitely tell her _no_ one day. Soon, too. 

In the meantime, he spends most of his evenings trying to convince himself that she’s definitely _not_ got him well and truly under the thumb, even as he stays up way past the time when he should have gone to sleep just so that he can speak to her until she drifts off, too; and then he’ll be tired and grumpy at work until she sends him a good morning text and a smiling emoji, and then he’ll see her name flash up on his phone when it’s time for her lunch _(which means it’s time for his, too),_ and Kristoff will forget all about his pride as he eagerly answers and grins the whole time she chatters on at him. 

.

.

.

Her air conditioning kicks out in the middle of July, and Kristoff arrives at her door less than thirty minutes after she called him wearing a plain white tee and dark grey shorts. He had been planning on heading out to the lake with Sven, but it’s far too hot to just leave her without AC; and he figures that if he can’t get it working again, then maybe he can invite her to the lake with them. 

Friends do stuff like that, right?

Anna meets him at the front door, and Kristoff’s eyes practically bulge out of his head. He almost drops the toolbox that he’s carrying, and a strangled noise escapes his throat as he gapes at her. 

So much of her pale, freckled skin is on show to him, and he doesn’t know where to look - and where _not_ to look - as his eyes roam over her body. He’s always known that she was petite, but the sight of her wearing nothing more than a white bikini top and a pair of tight denim shorts solidifies that fact; and his face burns red as he drinks her in.

He’s never seen so much of her before, and _shit,_ she’s so _beautiful._ She’s practically glistening with sweat, and _fuck,_ he wants to touch her, wants to pull her close and run his tongue over the curve of her neck, wants to -

No. _Nope._ He’s not going to do that, not going to think like that. 

He’s _not_ going to be even more of a fucked-up pervert than he already is about her.

Kristoff shakes his head quickly in an attempt to snap himself out of it before he finally lifts his eyes to her face. He’s surprised to find that she doesn’t necessarily look horrified or appalled by the way in which he’s been ogling her; and he really should apologise, but -

“I - _shit,_ Anna, where are your clothes?”

She frowns a little at that, tilts her chin down and examines her outfit.

“What do you mean?” she asks, her tone a little _too_ sweet, and if he didn’t know any better, then he’d say she was fucking with him on purpose. “I _am_ wearing clothes.” 

He swallows audibly. 

“Right,” he agrees, not sure of what else to say; and Anna rolls her eyes before she turns on her heels and heads inside. 

Kristoff pauses for a moment - his eyes lingering on the sway of her hips as she moves, on the curve of her ass and the way in which the denim clings to her flesh - and he exhales a deep breath before he follows her inside, closing the door behind him.

It’s torturous enough, just being around her; watching the pull of her smile and listening to her twinkling laugh, feeling her hands brush against his and smelling her perfume when she wraps her arms around his neck and hugs him, but it’s the sweetest kind of torture - the kind that makes his heart soar and his chest swell and his fondness for her intensify. 

But _this -_ this a whole new kind of torture, and he squeezes his eyes tightly to a close as he wonders how the hell he’s supposed to fix the air conditioning unit when she looks like _that._

.

.

.

It takes him almost an hour to figure out that the fucking switch has flipped itself to ‘ _off’._

It would have usually been the very first thing that he would check, but he’s been far too distracted by her legs and her ass and her bare stomach and -

“ _Motherfucker,_ ” he hisses as he receives a quick shock when he flips it back to _‘on’,_ and Anna squeals in delight as the AC makes a noisy return. 

Cool air begins to blow around them, and they both sigh in relief. 

“You fixed it!” she grins, and Kristoff frowns as he uses the bottom of his shirt in order to wipe away the sweat from his brow before he places both hands on his hips. 

The denial is on the tip of his tongue, and he almost tells her that he really didn’t do anything at all; but then she’ll wonder what he’s spent the past sixty minutes doing, and he can’t exactly tell her that he’s been daydreaming about what it would feel like to place his hands on either side of her waist, to pull her flush against him and hear her gasp, to yank the denim down her skin and -

“What would I do without you?” she smiles, and she’s so close to him, now; her hand coming to rest on his bicep, and his dark eyes widen when she bounces onto her tiptoes and presses a chaste kiss to his cheek. 

.

.

.

Kristoff switches his phone to silent every night before bed, and he wakes to several texts that are misspelled to the point that he can barely understand what they say, an array of missed calls and two rambling voicemails. He can’t help but smile as he listens to them on the way to work, and he laughs later in the afternoon when she calls him.

“I feel like _death,_ ” she whines. “All I want is junk food, but I can barely open my _eyes._ ”

It’s funny, really - Anna’s always been a lightweight, which seems to have many benefits for her, including cheap nights out and hangover-free mornings, since she’s usually only had one or two glasses of whatever to drink. 

Still, he doesn’t think much of it. Instead, he thinks of the possibility of seeing her today - not just because he’s fixing something at the house - and he clears his throat as he glances down at his watch.

“You know,” he starts, “I’ve only got one more oil change to do, and then I’ll be finished, if you want me to stop by and bring -”

“Oh my _god,_ Kris,” she groans, and nobody’s around, but his cheeks still flush pink at the way in which she says his name. “That would be _amazing._ Only if you’re sure, though.”

He smiles. “Course I’m sure,” he tells her.

Friends do this sort of thing for one another. Right?

.

.

.

Kristoff raises his hand to knock at her door, but he finds himself testing the doorknob, and he sighs unhappily when he finds it to be unlocked.

“Anna?” he calls as he closes the front door, his eyes narrowed as he looks around.

“Up here!” she shouts from upstairs, and Kristoff kicks off his shoes before he makes his way up the carpeted stairs.

He showered and changed before he came over after work, not wanting to dirty up her place with his grease-covered overalls, and he tucks his keys into one of the pockets of his dark sweatpants. 

“You really should lock your door, you know,” he sighs as he makes his way towards her bedroom, “anyone could just walk in here and -”

He falters, eyes wide and lips parted in surprise. 

She’s perched on the end of her bed as she runs a brush through her loose, red waves; one leg crossed over the other as she looks at him through the reflection in her mirrored wardrobe. It’s almost six-thirty, but she’s still in her pyjamas - a pair of white cotton shorts and a strappy pink tee - but _fuck,_ she looks so _perfect,_ and he swallows thickly at the sight of her.

He wants to kiss her. _Now._ Wants to empty his hands and bury them in her hair, wants to slot his mouth against her own and use his lips and his tongue to show her everything that he’s been thinking about for the past two years - 

“Oh my _god,_ ” she grins, and he almost whines when she licks her lips and stretches herself backwards over the mattress towards him. “You are the _best._ ” 

He frowns in confusion at her outstretched arm, then follows her gaze to the hand that rests by his side.

Oh. Of course

The food.

Kristoff hopes that she doesn’t notice the flush on his cheeks as he offers it to her, and doesn’t hesitate to take it from him before she sits back up and scurries over towards the headboard. 

He tries his best not to stare at her ass as she crawls over the mattress, he really, _really_ tries; but it’s so _hard_ not to glance at her, though he’s found over time that mere glances at Anna are damn near impossibly for him.

He always ends up staring, always ends up looking like a fool, but if she’s noticed, then she’s never said anything about it.

Kristoff quirks a brow as she settles herself down, pressing her back against the headboard and pulling her floral printed bed sheets over her legs. He’s sad to see the expanse of creamy skin disappear beneath the sheets, but then she pats the space beside her and smiles widely at him.

“Come on,” she says, her tone playful and inviting, “there’s no way I’m going to be able to make it downstairs.”

He wants to call her out on it. It’s on the tip of his tongue, the fact that she must have been downstairs at some point in order to unlock the front door; but he doesn’t say that, figures that he should jump at the opportunity to sit next to her in her bed, and so he nods before he moves to sit beside her. 

Anna busies herself by shoving a fistful of fries into her mouth, and she moans happily as her eyes flutter to a close.

“What would I do without you?” she asks, those same words that she asks him every fucking time; though right now, they’re slightly muffled by the food in her mouth, and Kristoff chuckles before he leans over and rummages in the paper bag to grab at his own portion. 

.

.

.

He’s far too comfortable around her. 

She’s switched off the main light in her bedroom so that they are mostly surrounded by darkness, though she’s been watching some random reality show that he’s not really been paying any attention to, and so the light from the TV illuminates the bed from where it hangs on the wall. 

Anna’s head is resting on his shoulder, and he can barely breathe as her fingernails rake up and down the length of his forearm in what he assumes is an absent-minded movement. The top of her auburn hair tickles his cheeks and his chin, and she’s close enough that he can feel the warmth radiating from her, can smell the fruity scent of her shampoo; and _shit,_ it’s not _fair._

He he has no right to think it or to feel it, but he really could get used to this. 

“I should -” he starts, clears his throat and continues, “probably get going. It’s, uh - _late._ ”

“Oh, she says, lifting her head away from his shoulder so that she’s blinking those big, blue eyes at him; and he doesn’t think that his face has ever been so close to hers before. “I - do you have to?” she asks, and the question takes him by surprise.

“I mean - not really,” he responds, “I don’t - I’m not working in the morning, or anything. But I -”

Some of her hair falls forward and falls against her cheek, and Kristoff’s words die in his throat as he watches the auburn strands flow and move. Her eyes soften as he slowly raises his hand - her own still wrapped around his wrist - and brushes his fingers over her hair, tucking the strands behind her ear. 

He hears her sharp intake of breath, and her eyes widen ever so slightly when he bends his knuckles and strokes them over the skin of freckled cheek. 

He’s over-stepping, he’s sure; and he immediately panics and moves to pull away, but her fingers tighten around his wrist. 

It’s a silent encouragement for him to stay, and he does. 

There’s an unfamiliar sort tension in the air, and Kristoff swallows audibly as he looks away from his fingers and meets her gaze. His ears begin to burn as he notes the way in which her eyes dart from his own to his lips and then back again, and his heart pounds so harshly that he wouldn’t be surprised if she could hear it.

“Anna,” he murmurs, his voice lower than he intended it to be, and her eyes widen ever so slightly at the sound. He finds himself slowly leaning towards her, his mouth dry and his hand trembling as he stretches out his fingers once more so that they fan across her jaw. “I - can I -”

“ _Yes,_ ” she breathes, voice quick and sounding almost impatient, and his eyelids flutter to a close at the feel of her warm breath fanning out across his face. 

He doesn’t hesitate any longer.

Kristoff wets his dry lips with his tongue before he closes the distance between them. He places a soft, chaste kiss to her mouth; all soft and feather-light, and _fuck,_ this can’t be real, it _can’t_ be - 

But then Anna sighs softly against him, and he knows that it is. 

He pauses for a moment before he kisses her again, and then again and again and again; using his hand on her cheek to keep her close as he moves his mouth over her own. 

She whimpers softly when his tongue slides against her bottom lip, and the tension in his shoulders eases completely when she opens her mouth to him. Anna pulls a low groan from his chest when she licks eagerly into his mouth, and he blushes at the sound, embarrassed; but it only seems to encourage her, and she continues to kiss him even as she kicks away the covers and swings one of her legs over his thighs so that she’s effectively straddling his waist. 

He’s so far gone for this girl - has been for the past two and a half years - and Anna rests on her knees so that she’s a little higher than him. Kristoff tilts his chin as he nips lightly against her bottom lip, eliciting a soft giggle from her, and her hands fist into the hair at his nape as she moves to pepper kiss along the line of his jaw. 

He relaxes beneath her lips, mouth falling open as his hands move to sit on either side of her waist. 

“Anna, I - _fuck,_ ” he hisses as her teeth graze his lobe, and his grip on her hips tightens as he shudders. “I’m - _shit,_ I don’t even -”

He’s well and truly babbling, now; and a long, low whine escapes him as she rocks her hips against him. There’s no doubt in his mind that she’ll be able to feel just how much her kisses have affected him through the thin layer of his sweatpants and her shorts, and she giggles once more before she returns her mouth to his. 

“God, Kris,” she murmurs as she rocks again, her movement a little more purposeful this time. “I’ve wanted to do this for _so long,_ you have no idea.”

He can’t take it, he _can’t -_ can’t cope with the thought of Anna having been wanting him whilst he’s been wanting her, too, and he uses his grip on her hips to grind against her in return each time that she pushes herself against him. 

“ _Fuck,_ Anna, you can’t -” he murmurs between kisses, “you can’t say that kind of shit to me, I’ll -”

“I mean it,” she grins, “it’s not _fair,_ I’ve wanted you for so long, and you’ve -”

Her words are cut off by a long moan as Kristoff mimics her earlier movements and begins to place kisses along the length of her jaw. He’s spent so long thinking about this, about what he would do to her if he got the chance, and the feel of her skin beneath his lips is better than he ever imagined it would be. 

“Tell me what you want,” he breathes against the corner of her jaw, “you - Anna, you’ve gotta _tell me._ ”

He can hear the grin in her voice as her fingers tighten in his hair. “Yeah, because - because that’s how this works, right?” she pants as he begins to leave a trail of wet kisses down her neck, his lips and tongue worshipping her pale skin. “I tell you what I need, and you make it happen?”

He can’t resist the temptation any longer, and his hands trail lower so that he can press his palms flat against the top of her smooth thighs. He presses at the muscle there before his hands snake around her back, trailing beneath her cotton shorts and coming to rest over the curve of her ass. 

Anna gasps as he squeezes experimentally at the perky flesh, and he feels drunk, now. He can’t recall the amount of times he’s thought about touching her like this, and he’s somewhat lightheaded as she continues to writhe against him. 

“ _Shit,_ Anna - you fucking _know it is._ ”

He finds himself nipping at the thin strap of her tee, and moments later, the garment is gone; thrown over her shoulder and discarded haphazardly against the floor, and he’s thankful that he takes a long moment to appreciate the sight of her before her hands move to cup his face, and then she’s kissing him again. 

He feels her grin wickedly against his lips as he continues to palm her ass, and she sighs happily before she speaks again.

“So,” she starts, “if I tell you that I want you to fuck me -”

He’s spent two years aching for her, and Kristoff can’t hold back anymore.

Anna shrieks - a light, delighted sound - as he pushes her back against the mattress, his hands regrettably moving away from her skin and coming to rest on either side of her head so that he can hover above her. 

The sight of her biting down on her bottom lip has him pressing his lower half flush against her, and he sucks in a breath and fights against the urge to close his eyes when Anna bunches her fingers into the hem of his tee, her skin brushing gently against his lower abdomen. 

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she tells him, and he huffs out a laugh as she attempts to pull the material over his head.

It’s all a little clumsy, really; and in the end, Kristoff has to help her with it, but they eventually manage to free him of his tee, and it’s thrown to the floor along with her own. 

His cheeks flush under Anna’s heated gaze, and his heart continues to pound as her hands roam over his freshly exposed skin. She’s never seen him shirtless before, so he allows her the chance to look despite the way his face burns; still somewhat in disbelief that this is really happening, that she’s _actually_ touching him.

There have been times when he’s hated himself for how much he wants her, times when the guilt he’s felt over his desire for her has eaten away at him and kept him awake at night. But there have been times when he’s fully indulged himself in his fantasies, too; when he’s given in to the thought of her, when he’s reached his peak with her name tumbling from his lips, and he knows just from the kisses that they’ve shared that none of those fantasies come close to comparing to the real thing. 

He wants her so much that it _hurts._

“I know,” she says, her voice softer than he’s heard it yet, and _shit,_ he didn’t mean to say that out loud, but - “I know, Kristoff, I - _me too._ ”

Her words are all the encouragement that he needs, and Kristoff presses another heated kiss to her lips before he pushes himself back on his knees and begins to fumble with his waistband. He hooks his thumbs beneath the material and slides his boxers down his thighs along with his sweats, and even the immediate relief that he feels when he frees himself from the restraining material isn’t enough to distract him from the fact that she’s mimicking his movements; and as she raises her hips into the air, he rushes to reach out towards her. 

“Let me,” he murmurs, but he’s hesitant even as his fingers trail over her waistband, and he waits until she nods before he slowly moves to peel the material down her legs. 

He moves his hands so that she can kick the shorts away, and he audibly swallows at the sight of her.

She’s perfect. And yet -

“ _Fucking -_ no panties?” he asks, his voice higher than usual and breaking on the words; and she laughs mischievously as she shakes her head. 

_Fuck. Him._

“You - this whole time I’ve been sat in your bed, and you’ve -”

He shuts up the moment that her small hand moves to wrap around the base of his cock, and he hisses as she grips him with the most perfect amount of pressure. His eyes squeeze tightly to a close at the feel of her holding his length, and his hips buck into the air as she rakes her fingernails gently across his cock. 

Kristoff grunts in surprise as she presses the pad of her thumb against the wet tip, and his eyes fly open as he feels her wrap her fingers around him once more. He shakes his head quickly, eyes wide as she moves her hand against him; and this alone feels so good that he doesn’t want her to stop, but he knows that there’s no way in hell that he’ll last more than sixty seconds if she continues to touch him like this. 

Anna laughs softly at his stuttered confession when he tells her as much, though she releases her hand from around him all the same. He misses the contact immediately, but then she raises it to his bicep and squeezes softly there, instead; and he smirks before he leans down and catches her lips in another kiss.

Kristoff wants to touch her, he _does -_ he wants to explore and study and learn, wants to bury himself between her legs and use his mouth against her in the same way he’s using it against her lips; but he’s already so close, so tense and so ready and desperate to be inside of her. 

He wonders if she’ll let him have this again. If he’ll be able to be better, next time; if he’ll have the opportunity to show her _everything_ that he’s wanted to do to her. 

His fingers slip between her thighs - all of his movements deliberately slow, giving her the opportunity to stop him if she wants to. Instead, Anna welcomes him with a long, low moan and the parting of her legs. 

“Anna, I -” he starts, but he can’t finish the sentence; can’t find the words to describe how slick and wet he finds her, and Kristoff curses softly as he pushes one of his fingers inside her centre. He watches her expression with hooded lids, notes the little _‘o’_ of her mouth and the glow of her cheeks, and he smiles down at her when her eyes fly open once his thumb dances over her clit.

Kristoff ignores the aching throb of his own arousal as he works his fingers against her. He lets the noises that she makes guide him in terms of what she likes and what she wants from him, and he can’t decide between whether to kiss her or whether to lean back and watch her come undone beneath him, and so he finds himself alternating between the two. 

She’s beautiful; the most beautiful woman he’s ever known, and -

“I need you,” he murmurs, voice low and thick, “ _Fuck,_ Anna, I need you _so much._ ”

Her hands raise from where they had been gripping tightly at his biceps to cup his jaw, her thumbs brushing against his stubble as she nods eagerly beneath him.

“I need you, too,” she tells him, and she pushes herself up off the bed ever so slightly so that she can kiss him again. 

Anna whimpers at the loss of him as he removes his hand from her centre so that he can steady himself over her, and he lets out a heavy breath as he grips the base of his cock with his fingers; the ones which are still damp from _her,_ and the thought turns him on impossibly more. He’s so ready for her - has been for as long as he can remember - and he licks his lips when her breath hitches as he positions his cock against her entrance. 

Kristoff’s chest heaves almost violently as he glances down to see where he’s lining himself up, though he can barely soak in the sight for more than a couple of seconds before he has to squeeze his eyes tightly to a close, suddenly overwhelmed. 

And no fantasy could ever compare to the way that it feels when he slowly pushes himself into her for the first time. 

She’s hot and wet and impossibly tight around him, and this time, he doesn’t so much as blush at the whimper of a noise that escapes him as he gently eases his way inside her; his movements careful and patient, giving her time to stretch around his cock. 

His face falls into the crook of her neck once he’s buried to the hilt inside of her, and Kristoff inhales a shaky breath as he tries his best to focus on doing _anything_ to make this last.

After a long pause, the sound of his name falling urgently from Anna’s lips reminds him that he needs to actually _move,_ that he can’t just lie here like this forever, and he inhales another deep breath before he begins to rock his hips against her.

“ _Fuck,_ Anna,” he hisses, and _god,_ she feels so _good._

It’s a rather careful pace, at first - he’s wary of the fact that it’s been a while since he’s been in this position with anyone, and then there’s the fact that this isn’t just anyone, it’s _Anna;_ and the last thing that he wants to do is to beat her to any kind of release. But the sounds of her small moans and ragged pants serve as enough encouragement for him to move a little faster, to grip her skin a little tighter, and Kristoff knows that he sounds much the same as he thrusts eagerly into her. 

Her legs wrap tightly around his hips - heels digging into his ass - as he quickens his movements, and he smirks at the noise that he manages to pull from her throat when he alters the angle of his hips ever so slightly upwards. The change in position clearly has him brushing against a particularly pleasurable spot for her, and she writhes beneath him, her chest heaving as she raises her hips slightly in order to meet each thrust. 

“You like that?” he asks, and she hums softly as she threads her fingers through the back of his hair. Kristoff moans lightly as her fingernails rake back and forth against his scalp, and his eyelids droop to a close before they shoot back open at her response. 

“You have _no_ idea,” she tells him, and his eyes widen as she drops one of her hands from his hair and snakes it down her abdomen. 

He drops his chin so that he can follow the movement with his eyes, and the sight of her brushing her fingers over her clit whilst he thrusts himself inside of her is almost enough to push him over the edge.

As if she can read his mind, she shakes her head and uses her other hand to tug on his hair, the sudden sensation causing him to look back up at her quickly. 

“ _No,_ ” she says, “Kris, you - wait for me, _please,_ ” she says. 

He’ll do whatever it is she needs. Hell, he’s spent the last two years of his life doing just that; whether it’s giving her a ride or spending his entire evening texting her or coming over at the drop of a hat to fix her shit, he’s always tried his best to take care of her, to give her what she wants.

By some grace of god, he manages to rein himself back in, and he wraps his hands beneath her thighs and squeezes at the muscles there as he continues to fuck himself into her. His jaw locks tightly as he snaps his hips at a faster, harsher pace than before; spurred on by the sound of her short pants and soft moans. 

His name falls from her lips as she continues to circle her clit with her own fingers, and he squeezes his eyes tightly to a close as he responds with an incoherent cry of his own; her name and a string of curses falling from his tongue as his hips stutter and falter in their rhythm. Kristoff’s eyes fly open as he feels her walls begin to clench impossibly tighter around him, and he watches with parted lips and a loose jaw as she falls apart.

He could watch her forever. 

Or, he would if he wasn’t buried inside of her, if he wasn’t _finally_ here with her lay wanting beneath him; and the feel - and sight - of her reaching her own release has him quickly following behind. After just a few more clumsy thrusts of his hips and squeezes of her skin, he empties himself inside of her with a stuttered moan of her name. 

Anna whimpers softly when he pulls himself out of her before he collapses face-down on the bed, and Kristoff concentrates on steadying his breathing and calming his heart rate before he does anything else. She’s panting, too - can hear her ragged breaths from where she’s lay beside him - and after a long minute, he turns his head to the side and blinks his eyes open at her.

His heart continues to thunder within his chest as her light eyes meet with his, and she smiles softly before she rolls herself over from her back to her side. Kristoff almost closes his eyes when she raises one of her hands to the back of his shoulders and begins to gently rake her fingernails across his skin, but the sound of her voice forces him to keep them from drooping shut. 

“Hey,” Anna murmurs, and he huffs out a laugh against her sheets.

“Hey yourself,” he responds, lips quirking as he glances over at her.

Her auburn waves aren’t so neat anymore, and her cheeks are flushed pink; light eyes wide and playful, practically shining as she blinks over at him, and her cheeks are plump and swollen from their kisses. He wants to reach out and touch her again, wants to stroke his thumb and his fingers over her lips and her cheeks and her jaw, but he’s not sure if she wants him to, not sure if he’s allowed - 

But then she shuffles closer towards him until she’s near enough pressed against his side, and Kristoff watches intently as she leans forwards and presses a gentle kiss against his shoulder. 

“You okay?” she asks, and he nods his head once.

“Yeah,” he tells her, “I - are you?” 

She sighs softly as she lifts her fingers to his face and brushes some of his sweat-damp hair away from his forehead. 

“I am now,” she responds, voice barely above a whisper, and Kristoff grins before he moves forward to kiss her again.

.

.

.

“So, you’ve not got anywhere to be in the morning?” Anna asks a short while later as she snuggles herself closer to him.

Kristoff lifts one of his arms and drapes it loosely around the back of her shoulders as her own arms wrap around his waist. His hand comes to rest at the top of her forearm whilst she hitches one of her legs over his thighs and slots it in between his own, and he thinks of how easy it is to hold her like this, how simple and relaxed he feels with her close to him. 

“No,” he confirms, a small smile tugging on his lips as she nestles her head into the crook of his neck. “We shut on Sunday’s, remember?” he asks, his fingers brushing against her freckled skin, and he feels her smile against him. 

“Of course I do,” she says. 

She’s quiet for a short while after that, and Kristoff finds himself beginning to drift when she speaks again. 

“So you’ll - you’ll stay, then?” 

He suddenly feels guilty about the fact that he had just assumed, and he swallows thickly before he nods. 

“I - yeah,” he murmurs, “I mean, only if you want me to.”

“Of course I do,” Anna repeats, and Kristoff chuckles softly before he relaxes further into the pillows as she begins to trace her fingers over his bare chest. 

It still doesn’t feel quite real, all of this; still feels like it might all just be a particularly vivid dream, or one of his many wild fantasies about her, and so Kristoff tilts his chin against the top of her head and inhales a long, deep breath. He revels in the scent of her fruity shampoo and smiles as it overwhelms him enough to confirm that this _is_ real, that all of this _actually_ happened, that he genuinely is lying in bed with Anna in his arms. 

“So,” she says - tone far too casual for his liking as she continues to trace patterns over his chest - “now that we’ve _finally_ got to this point, can I stop breaking things on purpose just to get you to come over here?” 

His eyes widen in surprise at that, and Kristoff pushes himself backwards so that he can blink down at her. Anna giggles softly at the look on his face as she tilts her own chin in order to look up at him through her lashes, and he can only imagine just how surprised he looks. 

“You - what?” he asks, dumbfounded. “That - that was all _you_?”

Anna shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly. 

“I mean, not _all_ of it,” she says. “The lightbulbs were genuine, at least. And the sink leaking wasn’t _completely_ my fault, either.”

A quick chuckle escapes him as he shakes his head. 

“I don’t -” he starts, then his eyes narrow slightly as he begins to pull the pieces of the puzzle together. “Wait. So that whole thing with the AC the other week…” 

Her cheeks fill with colour at his words, and she smiles so _innocently_ up at him _,_ even as he cocks an expectant brow at her. 

“I mean, it’s not my fault you took an hour to figure out that the switch was set to _‘off’_.” 

He can’t help the wide, triumphant grin that lights up his face at her words; and he laughs - mostly in disbelief - before he reaches for her hips and quickly rolls them over, effectively pinning her to the mattress beneath him. 

“Do you have _any_ idea what you did to me that day?” he rumbles at her, his dark eyes playful yet so full of lust at the thought of her doing that - _dressing_ like that - for him; and Anna smiles brightly as she hooks her arms loosely around the back of his neck.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” she responds with another shrug of her shoulders, and Kristoff hums in agreement before he closes the distance between them once more by pressing a heated kiss to her lips.

He’s so smitten with her that it _hurts,_ and he may not know when exactly that happened, but he’s sure as hell glad that it did. 


End file.
